


Keep Calm & Don't Die

by itsallAvengers



Series: Listen up, Kid [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: -Tony; Probably, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aunt May GOT NO TIME FOR YOUR SHIT STEVEN, Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Give Them ALL A Hug Or So Help Me, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Only When he's antagonising Cap though, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Poisoning, Protective Tony Stark, Sort Of, Teenagers huh? Insufferable, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, not really but, or Tony for that matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Peter is poisoned. There's eighteen hours until he reaches critical.Tony gets to work.





	Keep Calm & Don't Die

“Stop running, my man, you’re not gonna get out of this.”

 

Peter limped forward, blocking off the final villain in the alley and folding his arms. He’d lost half his suit in the battle, and he was guessing the sleeveless style he was currently sporting probably made him look like a fucking idiot- but he still had the upper hand.

He was Spiderman, after all. Upper hand was his default mode.

 

“Put your hands up, buddy, you’re under arrest,” he continued, “you can’t get outta here, and once Ironman arrives there’ll be no turning back. You might as well just sit back and-”

the man spat, and it was only Peter’s fast reflexes that prevented him from getting an eyeful of it. Charming.

“I will never surrender to your kind,” Villainous Dude hissed, looking him up and down, “with your filthy magic and unnatural enhancements.”

Peter rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. “If you think there’s magic involved here, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to let you down. It’s actually just a radioactive spider and my own insatiable curiosity that got me in this mess in the first place, if I’m honest.”

Villainous Dude spat again, but this one didn’t even reach Peter’s feet. “You running out of ammo there?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Villainous Dude snarled, taking a step forward, but Peter didn’t flinch. If the guy got too close, he’d just punch him. His hands were too fast for most people to dodge anyway.

Checking his watch, he tapped on the comm. “Tony?” He asked, “you coming ‘round any time soon?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, on my way- just trying to round up the other two guys,” Tony said quickly, and there were two simultaneous repulsor fires as Tony said “alright, I’m free now. I’ll come pick you both up. Try not to get too cosy.”

“I can’t make any promises, he seems to really like me,” Peter said cheerfully, giving Villainous Dude a thumbs up and then turning away before his new friend could give him a much ruder gesture, “see you in two.”

“You may imprison us all,” Villainous Dude said regally, an ominous little smirk beginning to curl around his lips, “but our legacy shall always remain.”

“Dude,” Peter said, “you tried to take the entirety of Times Square hostage. Do you know how many villains have tried to do that? So many. And it genuinely baffles me as to why, because it’s such a shitty spot, tactically, you’re at a disadvantage-”

“That is not what we will be remembered for, idiot,” Villainous Dude jeered, “we will be remembered for killing Spiderman, and making his death a message to all other heroes who try and act as if they are invincible. You will all fall, in the end.”

Peter paused, and then clapped. “Considering your incarceration is imminent, I gotta give it to you, you’re still really putting in the effort there. Nice speech, really thought-invoking.”

Villainous Dude just sneered, and then quickly snuck a hand into his pocket. Peter put his guard up immediately, but no weapon was drawn- just a little glass ball full of something amber.

Peter heard the repulsors behind him which signalled Tony’s arrival, and it was with that discovery that he suddenly realised the man was gearing up to chuck the thing in his grip- not at Peter, but Tony.

 

Sticking a hand out and catching it instead was just instinctual, really. He couldn’t help it.

 

The first thing he noted was that the thing was light, and very, very delicate. Of course, that was only once his powerful fingers had crushed it in his palm. That was a bit of a bummer.

He hissed as the thing broke and pierced his skin. The thin edges were like razors, and his hand became lacerated with tiny cuts that were quickly covered with the amber liquid. He dropped the remains hastily and wiped them against his hip, cursing Villainous Dude in his head. 

“Okay buddy,” Tony declared, lifting his palms, “show’s over. You’re not gonna be escaping any time soon, so you may as well just come quietly, for all our sakes.”

Wordlessly, the man held out his wrists. Peter huffed, offended. “How come you’ll do what he says, but not me? I’m menacing too, you know.”

“Hush, Spider,” Tony called out as he locked the special cuffs around the man’s wrists, and Peter just knew he was smiling like a smug bastard under that faceplate, “sometimes people can sense professionalism, even through an indestructible layer of metal. Plus your lack of sleeves makes you look like a mix between a sixties hipster and a part of a rock-metal band.”

Peter just grumbled, looking down at his arms and hands, particularly the right one, which was already beginning to heal up. Still stung like a bitch, though.

Seeing Peter’s movement, Tony turned. “What  _was_ that thing you caught, anyway? Didn’t hurt you, did it?” He asked, stopping in his tracks.

Peter thought about it. No- it hadn’t done anything, really. He didn’t feel any different or ill- although he should probably mention what it was, just in case.

“Nah,” he said, shrugging, “but- uh, it had something in it. A liquid. And it cut me when I grabbed it, so…” he shrugged again, kicking a can as he walked forward before picking it up and putting it in the nearest trashcan, “but I’m fine, don’t worry. Didn’t do anything.”

He walked on a few more steps, before realising Tony had stopped following on behind him. Turning curiously, he regarded Tony as the man stared through his faceplate blankly and then cocked his head.

With a sudden and intense force, the arm that was holding on to the villain’s shoulder jerked out, shoving him into the wall of the alley. Peter yelled in surprise- he couldn’t read Tony’s expressions through the faceplate, and so he had no idea what was happening.

“What the fuck was in that thing,” Tony asked, voice dangerously calm as he got up in Villain Dude’s face, “JARVIS- give Spiderman a full bodyscan, now. Check mineral levels, blood toxicity, you know, the whole lot.”

“Tony, seriously, I’m fine!” Peter said loudly, whilst Villainous Dude just laughed and turned to face him.   
Something in his eyes made Peter wonder if he was right.

“Scan complete, sir,” JARVIS said quickly, and Tony tilted his head, just for a moment, as JARVIS  reeled off the details, “all signs look normal. No trace of toxicity in the blood, and heartbeat is regular. There are, however, trace amounts of alcohol in the bloodstream- too small to make a difference to Spiderman’s health, however.”

Tony paused, and then he turned to look at Peter, faceplate drawing back. “Have you been drinking again?” He asked incredulously, his face now very visible and very obviously pissed off.

“No!” Peter said hurriedly, putting his hands up, “it was probably the stuff in the glass. Looked a bit like whiskey.”

Tony looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, as if to check if he was lying- and then he let down Villainous Dude with a thump. “Okay,” he said, patting the perp’s shoulder and making his knees buckle, “You sure you don’t feel funny? Nothing wrong with your senses, your stomach?”

Peter shook his head. “Right as rain. I promise.”

 

Tony gave it another moment, and then nodded. “Alright,” he said, and that was the end of that.

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out, that was most certainly  _not_ the end of that.

 

 

* * *

 

He sat at the table a few hours later and tried to focus on his homework as they went through the playbacks of the fight on the TV next to him. He could feel a headache coming on- advanced trig was surprisingly difficult.

 

“If you want to focus, you probably shouldn’t be watching that,” Aunt May wandered into the room, waving a hand over to the buzzing television screen as she leaned up and grabbed a mug, “it’ll turn your eyes square.”

“Har har har,” Peter said, making a face over at her, “shouldn’t you have left by now? I thought I was gonna get some peace this weekend.”

She grinned, ruffling his hair. “I’m on my way out- you’re gonna be okay on your own, right? You promise me you’ll go over to Tony’s in the morning though- I’m not having you staying all by yourself for two days.”

Peter nodded, and she smiled, kissing his head. “Make sure you eat all your greens while I’m away. Your blankie’s hung out drying, but the pacifier’s on the side-”

Peter groaned, leaning back into her stomach. “you’re not funny, you know,” he said.

“I so am.”

“Are not.”

“Am- hey, Peter… are you okay, honey?” 

Peter frowned as she leaned away, taking his shoulders between her dainty little fingers and turning a concerned look on him. “What- yeah, of course I am, what makes you say-”

“Your hands are shaking,” she said worriedly, pulling one of his wrists up and then showing it to him accusingly, “have you been drinking too much coffee again?”

Peter watched his own hand curiously. It was shuddering, just a tiny little bit, and he flexed it experimentally, fingers slipping over the tiny scars that had pretty much faded by that point-

 

 

He froze.

 

 

“Peter?” May asked, properly concerned now as she saw his face falling, “baby, you’re okay, right? They’re just shakes, it’s cool, you probably just ate something-”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, waving a hand and smiling up at her, “I think it was that energy drink I had half an hour ago. Lotta sugar in those things.”

In his head, he was going through potential reasons that weren’t… what he thought it was. Nerves? Shock? A really, really minor panic attack?

May stared at him for a few more seconds. “You sure you’re okay?” She asked, serious.

Peter kind of wanted to tell her what had happened. But he knew if he did then she would stay at home with him, and the interview she was heading down to Florida for was huge. She’d been looking forward to it for weeks, and he wasn’t going to make her miss it.

So instead, he smiled, and tucked his hands away under the table.  “I’m sure.”

May nodded, smiling again and running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” she said softly, leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead, “well, I’m gonna get going now. Don’t have too much fun whilst I’m gone, alright?”

Peter grinned. “Can’t promise anything- you know me, the party lifestyle is the only one I know.”

She just huffed and pushed his head away fondly. “Sure, Parker.”

Giving his head one last pat, she grabbed her suitcase from the hall and then walked back to the door. “Right- I’ll see you Monday afternoon. Don’t blow anything up while I’m gone, please.”

“Again, I can’t promise anything.” And that one was actually true.

May looked at him, unamused, before shrugging. “Alright. Just blame it on Tony, then,” she said, waving a hand, “see you soon, love you!”

“Love you too!” Peter called out after her- and then she was gone, and he was alone in his apartment.

 

He pulled out his hands from under the table and watched them as they shook of their own accord- just tiny little ones that were barely even noticeable, but definitely…. there. 

And his head hurt.

 

Swallowing nervously, he reached over for his phone.

 

“Let me guess; advanced trig been getting you down? You’re lucky you have an expert to hand right now or-”

“My hands are shaking,” Peter interrupted loudly, “and- uh- my head’s starting to hurt.”

There was silence for a long time over the line. And then a little shuffling sound.   
“Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “I mean it could be nothing! Might just be stress or something, but- just in case, y’know?”

“I’m picking you up in one minute,” Tony said, like he hadn’t even heard what Peter had just told him, “get all your stuff ready.”

The call cut with Tony speaking the first syllable of JARVIS’s name, and Peter started bouncing his leg anxiously under the table, acutely aware of his shaking hands as they sat innocently on top of his math book.

Jumping up, he raced to his duffel bag  and shoved some clothes in. The important thing was to stay calm, right? He had the situation under control, and it was probably nothing. Just stress. Or his body getting rid of whatever it was that had been put in him-

Something knocked on his door, and Peter called out “come in, door’s open!”

A few seconds later, Tony’s head peered around the frame, spotting Peter in the kitchen and then stepping forward. His eyes were serious as they went instantly to Peter’s hands and watched for a few seconds.

Peter held them up in front of his face. “Right hand’s worse,” he noted absently, before balling them into fists and putting them around the string of his duffel to steady them.

Tony folded his arms. “You told Aunt May?” he asked.

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

“Well I sure do,” Tony told him, beginning to pull out his phone.

“No!” Peter told him hurriedly, jerking forward, “she’s just… she’s got a really important interview, and she really really wants to get it. That’s why she’s had to leave this weekend. I can’t… I’ll be fine, seriously, whatever this is will be sorted in no time.”

Tony glared at him stonily for a few seconds, before putting his phone away. “If this looks like it’s gonna get serious, then I’m calling her. We’re not arguing about this.”

Peter just nodded glumly, and then Tony jerked his head. “Suit’s outside- put on a jacket,” he told him, leaning against the counter, “you’re an idiot, by the way.”

“Hey, this wasn’t my fault!” Peter argued, reaching for his jacket and sliding it on, “if someone chucks something at you, you catch it! I have fast reflexes, remember.”

“I swear that thing was like, miles away from you,” Tony said with a frown, “you actively reached out to put your hands on it. Hence me calling you an idiot.”

Peter couldn’t really argue with that. “Whatever,” he said sulkily, following Tony out of the door.

Tony gave him a trace of a smile and he shook his head. “Damn teenagers,” he muttered, “so rude.”

“You say that like you weren’t the worst one.”

“Hey, that’s back-chat, right there. I’m the adult, you should be listening to every word I say.”

Peter snorted. “Sure. Every twentieth word, maybe. Probably more like fiftieth, if I’m being realistic.”

Tony gave him a shove. “Shut your mouth and step on my feet,” he told him as he fell back into the suit.

 

Peter grinned. He was going to be fine- Tony would sort it out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony stared at the scans with a blank face, fingers tracing lightly over the readings in front of him.

“What the fuck is this thing, JARVIS?” He called out suddenly, and Peter sat up on the medbay bed, looking over at them curiously.

“Sir,” JARVIS began, sounding almost… confused, “I am not entirely sure. It appears Mr Parker’s blood toxicity levels have risen by 10% since my last scan, but I cannot identify the toxin in his system. It is almost as if it is hiding itself.”

“How the hell did this get past you before? Ten percent is a big number to miss,” Tony asked, not angry, simply baffled.

“My best guess is that the substance was dormant when it entered Mr Parker’s bloodstream. The alcohol I noted earlier were perhaps simply a cover for any visible traces of the drug to get past undetected.”

“What’s gonna happen to me?” Peter asked quietly.

Tony’s eyes went a little wider. “Nothing is gonna happen to you, Peter, you don’t need to worry, we’ll fix this-”

“Tony,” Peter bit out, more forceful,  _“what is going to happen to me?”_

When Tony refused to answer, JARVIS spoke up. “The drug appears to be targeting your central nervous system. In an hour, the shaking will have taken your whole body. Once that fades, random seizures may occur. I am not sure as to what exact symptoms you will receive due to the unpredictable nature of the toxin- but it could be anything from hallucinations to nausea to asphyxiation. In roughly 18 hours, if the toxicity levels continue to rise, death will occur.”

 

They both sat in stunned silence. Suddenly, the shaking in Peter’s hands seemed to increase, although this time he doubted it was the poison currently running around in his blood.

 

“Okay,” Peter said softly, “okay, well, that’s… not really cool, but I mean, we can do something, right? There’s an antidote?”

Tony looked up to JARVIS hopefully, but there was only silence, then a quiet “there are no known antidotes for whatever drug this is, Mr Parker.”

Peter gaped. It was… he felt like he was having a trick played on him. This couldn’t be happening- it had just been a tiny little glass ball, for Christ’s sake, not-

“Alright,” Tony said, clapping his hands and standing up. There was something in his eyes; a steely sort of determination that Peter only saw in him when he was about to tackle something fierce, whether it be a monster or a particularly difficult engineering task- it spelt death for anyone who wanted to challenge him. “Well, there wasn’t a cure for palladium poisoning either, but I’m still standing. Up you get, Parker- you like biochemistry, right? Time to show me what you’re made of.”

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, slipping off the bed.

Tony paused, and then clenched his jaw. “We’re going to the labs. And I’m gonna teach you how to cure the uncurable in under eighteen hours.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Drink,” Tony said, pushing some green sludge into his hands, “it’ll help.”

Peter took the glass warily, looking at the weird dark green slush with apprehension. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a smoothie,” Tony said cheerfully, pressing a switch under the desk and lighting it up, “good for your health. Seriously, drink it. It helps with the shaking. Removes toxins from the system. Might help slow down the process a little.”

Peter shot him a look, but he got it down his throat all the same, despite the bad taste. Anything that might help was good enough for him.

He couldn’t stop looking at his hands. His arms, too, now, had begun to quiver, just a little. He was down here with Tony but he knew he wouldn’t be much help. He was just there so that Tony could keep an eye on him. 

The man in question was currently a hurricane in the room- buzzing and flitting all over the place as he set everything up. It looked like most of the stuff down here hadn’t been used in ages, but Tony, of course, arranged everything like he knew the place inside and out.

“This is Bruce’s lab,” Tony declared, obviously aware of Peter’s eyes on him, “just in case he ever wanted to come back from wherever the fuck he is. Which reminds me, actually- pass me your phone.”

Peter did, and Tony caught it, throwing it down on the desk. “JARVIS, triangulate Bruce Banner’s position. News, search history, sightings, whatever. Just get me in touch.”

 

Peter sat there, watching him work with a little bit of awe. Tony in the zone was a sight to behold, and seeing him multitask seven things at once made Peter feel both impressed and envious. He was supposed to be enhanced and even _he_ couldn’t do that.

Tony reached for something on the desk, and Peter couldn’t help but focus in on it, his gaze automatically drawn to the movement. It was just a test tube, and he should really have been too far away for Peter to have seen anything in particular, but- well- enhanced vision and all.

His brain registered it a millisecond after his eyes did, and he sucked in a horrified breath of air, jerking off the chair and stepping forward. “Oh shit.”

Tony turned around instantly. “What?” He asked, alert at once as he stepped forward and reached out to Peter, but Peter stumbled back, kept reversing until his back hit the wall. “Oh, God, I should have fucking thought about that, why didn’t I-”

“Peter, what the hell happened,” Tony took another step, but Peter groaned and held his hands out. “Don’t! Don’t, you’re…. oh, god, this is my fault.  Tony, your hands…. your hands are shaking too. Whatever it is, it must have transferred… maybe it was airborne… something, who knows, I’m so sorry, I didn’t th-”

“Peter,” Tony grabbed his shoulders, holding tight, grounding him with a sharp shake, “I’m not fucking poisoned, I’m  _scared,_  okay? Snap out of it. You need to keep calm- I can assure you that panic will only make things a whole lot worse.”

Tony was looking at him fiercely, as if daring Peter to call him on what he’d just said. He always wondered why Tony showing he cared was such a big deal to him- Peter guessed it was a sign of weakness, for him. But he admitted it freely here, if a little confrontationally.

He was scared.

Peter nodded jerkily. “Sorry,” he said, voice cracking a little at the end.

Tony’s fingers dug a little further into Peter’s shoulders, just for a second, before he pulled the boy into a tight hug. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t have yelled. I Just… you’re gonna be okay. You will. I promise. Just hold tight, alright?

Tony released him quickly and turned away before Peter could respond, taking an audible breath before giving his head a little shake and sitting back down on the desk. “Right, Parker,” he cracked his fingers and rolled his neck, “let’s get down to business.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was three hours later when the nausea kicked in.

 

The shakes were all over his body at that point. Tony had found a blanket and wrapped it around him, but it did little to help. Nothing seemed to be working, in fact- the painkillers were pretty much useless on him, and apart from leaving a foul taste in his mouth, the chlorophyll smoothies were doing nothing to prevent his blood toxicity from slowly rising.

Peter wasn’t afraid of needles- but when Tony drew a sample from his arm, the sudden need to vomit became overwhelming.

Jerking away and grabbing at the trashcan Tony had put by the side of the hospital bed, he gagged and heaved up everything he’d eaten that day. His head felt stuffed full of cotton and his throat burned, but he couldn’t stop, it felt as if his insides were convulsing.

Tony squeezed his shoulder and rubbed comforting circles across his back, muttering soft words that Peter couldn’t really hear through the roaring in his own ears. He felt weak. Exhausted, even.

“You done?” Tony asked, once Peter finally managed to come up for air again.

“Don’ think there’s anythin’ left in me,” Peter said with a pained smile.

He looked up, and saw Tony himself appeared to have deteriorated pretty rapidly in the space of time it had taken Peter to throw up. His face had turned paler, mouth pursed and eyes flitting nervously over Peter’s body as his fingers continued to tap across his Peter’s back.

“I’m fine,” Peter said through a grimace, “honest- I’ve gone through worse stomach bugs before.”

Tony huffed, giving him a gentle push. “Idiot,” he muttered, his hand cupping the back of Peter’s neck for a second before he turned away again, “now quit distracting me with your complaining- I’m trying to work over here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Peter laughed, rolling up a tissue and chucking it at his back. The severe shaking in his arm meant that it ended up flying right over Tony’s head, but it was the thought that counted, really. “How’s it coming on?” He asked, unable to stop the little waver of hopefulness fill his voice.

Tony stopped, not turning back to face him. “I- okay. We’re getting there. I just need to… I wish I had some more fucking help, but Bruce is literally nowhere on Earth, and I can’t exactly take you to SHIELD unless you fancy revealing your identity. I don’t…”

Peter wondered if Tony had been planning on finishing that sentence with  _‘I don’t know what to do’_ \- but instead he just turned his head, shooting Peter a reassuring smile. “I don’t have the patience of a biochemist. But I’ll figure something out. Once JARVIS can make head or tails of these blood samples- it’ll all be fine.”

 

Peter wondered if he was convincing himself more than he was trying to convince Peter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The air felt muggy.

Like it was… burning him. He could smell smoke. Was he on fire? Was something else on fire?

The air felt

muggy.

 

He jerked up in bed, pulling open his eyelids. He felt like they’d been glued together. In fact, he could feel it- the sticky stuff clumping on his eyelashes, trying to keep him from seeing.

He must have been taken. Kidnapped. Stolen away by the bad guys, and they were going to burn him, the air was too hot, he was going to burn.

Water. He needed… something cold. Freezing. Something….water! He needed something... something cold. Water.

He looked around the room and felt his head rolling limply, like it couldn’t hold itself up. He could see them, though. There were  
creatures in the shadows. Lurking. They were waiting for him, they had put him here and glued his eyes shut and-

 

the air felt muggy.

Like it was… burning him. He could smell smoke. Was he on fire? Was something else on fire?

 

He rolled, and felt the dull sensation of pain, countered instantly by the beautifully cold floor. It might counteract the burning. Maybe. 

He rubbed the glue out of his eyes, and saw the coagulated droplets as they were smeared over his fingers, dripping onto the floor. Ew. 

Gagging, he rolled over and dry-heaved nothing. He was in darkness, now- maybe he’d rolled under the bed. Maybe he’d be safe from the creatures under there. 

 

 

The air felt muggy.

Something opened it’s eyes right next to him, right in front of him with it’s horrible orange slits and sharp white teeth and Peter yelled, he yelled as loud as he could and jerked away, back into the burning light, back and back and back until his back hit the wall. It made his head hurt but he couldn’t feel it, he didn’t care for it, the creature under the bed was-

 

 

“Peter! Peter, calm down, snap out of it, whatever you’re looking at it’s not real!”

 

He jerked his head, spotting Tony crouching next to him. It was only when he followed the path of his arms that he realised there was a hand on the back of his head, stopping his skull from hitting against the hard metal walls as he banged it viciously.

He stopped, not taking his eyes off the darkness under the bed. “Tony, you gotta… the suit, there’s something-”  
  


“Peter, I promise you there is nothing there,” Tony said, but it didn’t sound like Tony, his voice was getting lower with each syllable and felt like he was drifting further and further with each second, leaving Peter alone with the monsters under the bed.

He grabbed Tony’s jacket, desperate. “Please don’t go, don’t leave me with them, I can’t-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony said firmly, one hand firmly clasping the back of Peter’s head as the other held on to his sweater, and suddenly he wasn’t so far away any more, he was right back next to him, his body acting as a barrier against all the dark creatures that were prowling in the shadows, “I’ve got you, Peter. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“The air, can’t you feel it?” Peter asked him hoarsely, feeling sweat and glue and boiling water drip down his face, “it’s gonna… gonna burn us.”

Tony paused. And then spoke up, louder, like a megaphone had been put under his chin, “JARVIS? Drop the temperature,” he said, before tilting his head back to Peter, “there, see? JARVIS has you covered. No more burning.”

And yes, Peter could already feel the fire begin to subside. JARVIS. JARVIS was good. If Tony said the temperature was down, it had to be down. right?

“Peter, you need to relax and focus,” Tony told him, “you’re having a hallucination-”

Hallucination? That was a long word. What did it mean?   
Tony’s voice felt far away again, Peter could barely even hear him now, like the megaphone had been 

taken away and replaced with a silencer, every

thing was so so 

so quiet.

 

_“Peter!”_

He froze, the screams from his own voice cutting off as he zoned back in on Tony, who was now having to hold him against the wall as he grappled and scrabbled at nothing.

“TONY!” He yelled back, “I CAN’T…. I CAN’T HEAR- I CAN’T HEAR- I CAN’T-”

He broke away, feeling Tony’s hand’s as they shifted down to his forearm, the fingers tapping an irregular beat across the skin there. It felt weird. Familiar.

 _CALM,_  something yelled in his head, and then Tony stopped, and the voice went quiet. When he started again, he voice said  _UR SAFE. B CALM. BREATHE._

 

It was Morse code! That was what Tony was doing! Peter understood now!

 

He rolled his head again, looking up at Tony and smiling. Tony was so smart. Tony wasn’t gonna let him get hurt by the creatures or the air or anything! 

 

“Okay,” Peter said, although he wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to. He felt tired. Really tired, actually, he might just-

 

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up back on the hospital bed, wrapped in about seven different layers and with a head of thick dark hair tickling his hand.

He sucked in a breath of air, blinking blearily. Tony looked severely uncomfortable in the position he was in- the chair he was using was higher than the bed Peter was lying in, leaving Tony hanging at a horrible sort of curve as his head slumped on the mattress.

God, he felt like shit.

Shuffling on the bed, he moved into a sitting position, despite the aches and groans his muscles gave in protest. The motion of his hands seemed to awaken Tony immediately, because as soon as he started moving the man had sat bolt upright and blinked, turning his head to look over at Peter. “Oh, shit, did I fall asleep? Fuck, I’m so sorry, Jesus, I don’t know how that happened, I need to get back-”

Jerking off the seat, Tony spun on his heel and started walking back to the desk. He only got three steps, however, before he turned back around and then cursed once more. “Shit- I need to-”

For a moment, Tony looked horribly overwhelmed; eyes wide, breath coming in short little gasps and head jerking back and forth between the desk and Peter’s bedside. Peter wanted to comfort him, but he wasn’t sure his lungs would be able to withstand it.

So he just watched- watched Tony shut his eyes, rub his hands against his eyes and then take a long, hard breath. He muttered something that Peter couldn’t heard but sounded sort of like a checklist, and then exhaled deeply before turning back to face Peter with a tired smile.

“How you feeling?” He asked quietly, walking backward and putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “you just had a rough few hours.”

Peter nodded. He felt stiff and sore, and his head hurt like a drum was playing heavy metal inside his brain. “I’ve had better days,” he mumbled, and was surprised at how croaky his voice sounded. He remembered the last time he’d been conscious-how loud he must have been screaming to try and be heard- and blushed a deep red.

Fuck- he must have sounded insane.

“It’s okay,” Tony told him, thumb running across his shoulder absently, “hopefully we won’t be having any more hallucinations, but… I can’t be sure. And if there are, I don’t want to put you under in case-”

 _In case I don’t wake up again,_  Peter’s mind finished for him helpfully.

Tony shook his head of the dark thoughts and smiled, but it just looked strained. By the looks of him, he was obviously exhausted- stubble growing out of the lines in his beard, bags under his eyes that were dark enough to be bruises and a suit that had definitely seen better days. “I found something that might work, though! It’ll take a few hours to synthesise, but you have at least 7 before you hit critical levels, so, I mean, yeah! Told you I’d fix it.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he sat up, even though it hurt. “Seriously?” He asked with joy.

Tony placed a hand on his chest, easing him back down again. “Hey, just rest, alright- but yeah. It should be able to counter the toxins that are spreading through your system pretty rapidly- once it’s injected, I’d say thirty seconds, maybe a minute, ‘til you’re right as rain again.”

Peter couldn’t help it- he laughed, even though it hurt everything. He laughed and smiled and grabbed Tony’s arm, shaking it happily,

 

He wasn’t going to die. Always a nice thing to hear. 

 

Softly, Tony ruffled his hair and smiled back. “I must admit, this wasn’t all on me,” he said with a shrug, “I had a very pleasant little  tête-à-tête with some of the greatest scientists in the world whilst you were sleeping, and we cooked something up.”

“Did you speak to Bruce Banner?” Peter asked excitedly.

“Bruce Banner is currently MIA- couldn’t get hold of him, sorry kid,” Tony said, a slight frown creasing his forehead, “after this, I’m probably gonna have to head off for a while. The fact that he seems to have disappeared off the face of the goddamn Earth is… concerning.”

“He’s  _the Hulk,_ Tony,” Peter began, trying to ease his mind, but Tony’s head just snapped over to him harshly as he replied, “yeah, and you’re Goddamn Spiderman, but look what my fucking carelessness did to you.”

 

They both froze, then- Tony adamantly staring at the wall with a face like thunder and Peter just lying there, trying to process what Tony had just blurted.

He really thought it was his fault.

“Tony,” Peter began, but Tony just shook his head violently and jerked away, turning his back and putting his head in his hands. “Jesus…fuck, not again.”

 

And with that- with nothing more than those four words- Tony fell to his knees and collapsed.

“I- what the- Tony!” Peter cried out hoarsely, sitting up in bed and trying his best to ignore the way his head felt as if it was splitting in half at the motion. Tony was still moving a little, rocking back and forth as he leaned heavily against the wall and buried his head under his knees, breathing deeply.

 _Panic attack,_  Peter’s mind suggested. That’s what it looked like, anyway.

“I’m gonna be okay, Tony,” Peter said gently, “seriously- you found a cure! Panic over! You can relax!”

“No, no, no, see-” Tony laughed and then sucked in a hissing breath, “see now this is the _perfect_ time for a fucking panic attack, Peter, because I’m not working against the clock now. Don’t… don’t have to compartmentalise shit. To be quite honest, though, I did kinda think I was over- over this.”

Another gasping breath, and then Tony groaned a little, hands gripping tightly to his hair. “Jesus, Peter, you didn’t see yourself, you were- fuck, you’re still… I was so fucking careless, Christ, and now you’re-”

“-Going to be fine,” Peter said again, because what else could he say? He had complete and total faith in Tony. “And it wasn’t your fault. I told you I was fine. You trusted me. Soon as I called you, you came. There was nothing more you could have d-”

“Ohhh, Parker, don’t even get me started on the things I could have done,” Tony said with another laugh, shaking his head, “the sleeves just got ripped that easily, seriously? And I should’ve told you to get a proper scan back in the labs rather than just half-assing it with the suit. Should’ve fucking… and now Bruce is… see,  _I can’t fucking_ …. care for people properly, I’m a goddamn fucking- fucking nightmare, Jesus, you’re not safe with m-”

“The well-being of everyone on the Earth is not your responsibility, you know,” Peter told him quietly, gripping tightly to the frame of the bed as he forced himself to stay upright. “I chose to be Spiderman long before you came along. I was putting myself in dumb situations long before you arrived on the scene. You just gave me the tech and suit to be able to withstand it all without getting myself killed. Without you, I would be dead 90 times over.”

Tony said nothing, so Peter just steamed ahead. “As for Doctor Banner- he told you not to look for him, right? What the hell were you supposed to do? He didn’t want to be found, and you didn’t want to push. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Like I said- Hulk.”

There was silence again, and it rung loud in Peter’s ears. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, or how to react. Tony… he was sort of delicate when it came to emotions. You had to tread very carefully, or he’d explode in your face like a time bomb. And right then, Peter’s head was far too fuzzy to be able to work around this tactically.

He just wanted to make Tony better, in the same way Tony was trying so hard for him.

 

In the end, he ended up falling off the bed in attempt to try and slide off it and sit next to Tony. He landed with a thump, hands barely managing to cushion his head when it hit the floor, and Tony jerked up, coming out of his haze to look at Peter in exasperation and worry.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Peter, that’s the second fucking time you’ve done that,” he said, taking a steadying breath before beginning to crawl over to him, “do I need to put up a fucking fence? Come on, are you hurt? Where did you land- please God not your head, I’d really rather not be dealing with a concussion on top of all of this-”

Well. At least it had seemed to snap Tony out of it, for better of worse. His hands were shaking as they helped Peter back on to the bed, but once he was done, Peter noticed his breathing had seemed to even out a little. He still looked patchy and tired, but… better.

“Sorry about that,” Tony muttered, awkwardly jerking his head back to where he’d been seconds previously, “panic over, crisis averted, I’ll just… get back to work.”

Peter nodded, but grabbed his shirt before he could turn away again. “Thank you,” he said, swallowing, “I don’t know… I really would be toast without you in my corner. Very- uh- very burnt toast. Probably just ash, you know. Especially with all the fires I somehow end up going into- that suit is very durable, it’s great, you’ve been really great, and, uh-”

Tony flicked him on the head, and he stopped babbling. When he looked up, the man was holding back an amused little smile. “I get the picture, Spidey. I… thanks.”

 

Tony looked more vulnerable at that moment than Peter was pretty sure he’d ever seen him- and when they grinned at one another, he could almost forget that he was dying.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright,” Tony declared, clapping his hands and then pushing his wheely chair across the room so that he ended up back at Peter’s bedside. He was grinning from ear to ear, and his mood alone made Peter perk up a little, despite the agonising banging in his head and bone-deep ache he was currently feeling. “Here it is, Peter- your ticket out of this shitshow. Am I amazing or am I amazing?”

Peter looked up at him and laughed as Tony rolled his sleeves and flicked the needle full of green-ish liquid. “Jesus, that’s a fucking relief.”

“Hey, no cursing,” Tony poked him in the chest, “that’s only allowed for anyone over eighteen.”

“You let me swear all the time!”

“Well, this is the new and improved Certified Adult Tony Stark who fixes your shit and is on top of his own shit too, and he doesn’t accept swearing from minors. So suck it up, bitch.”

Tony uncapped the needle and then grabbed Peter’s forearm, rolling up the sleeve. “This might sting a bit, especially if your muscles are already being attacked- but it’ll be over soon. JARVIS- put his blood toxicity up in front of me, will you?”

Peter watched through bleary eyes as the holoscreen popped up by the wall to his left, 81% flashing in red on the main screen. “You ready?” Tony asked.

“Hit me,” Peter replied with confidently, and without a second’s hesitation, Tony did.

They both waited, eyes on the percentage marker in front of them. Tony was still smiling.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, “is it- it’s working, right?” And the smile was beginning to stick on his face, the burst of happiness in Peter’s heart was fast subsiding, because he was pretty sure it should have worked by now, or at least started it’s effects, Tony had said it would-

“Signs indicate no visible change in blood toxicity levels. Deep-scanning now,” JARVIS answered with, and the AI sounded more than confused himself- like everyone had been expecting a different result, a better result than just nothing.

He swallowed. Flitted between Tony’s face and the monitor, which had still not moved past 81%.

 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” He whispered quietly.

 

The world felt a lot smaller, a lot more compressing than it had done seconds ago. Why hadn’t it… why hadn’t it worked? What had gone wrong?   
Why _him?_

 

“No,” Tony growled, hands fisting by the sides of the bed, “no, Peter, you’re not going to fucking die. This is just- just a complication. We’re gonna work around this, fix whatever it is-”

“Tony, there’s not enough time-”

 _“SHUT UP,”_  he yelled, jerking away, whirling back around and speed walking back to the desk, “shut the fuck- just…”

Peter watched as Tony shut his eyes and then said, in the calmest voice in the world, “just give me a minute. I need to- yeah.”

 

Without another word, Tony got up and left the room, leaving Peter alone with the red number flashing in his face like a death sentence.

 _I suppose it is,_ he thought, as the first tears began to slip down his cheeks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Tony walked in two minutes later, Peter didn’t say a word. He didn’t know if he could even if he wanted to- his throat was still so sore from the screaming earlier.

 

“I called Aunt May,” Tony said numbly, and hell, okay, screw not talking, Peter certainly had something to say to _that-_

“What the fuck!?” He yelped croakily, jerking upward, “Tony, what did you say to her?”

The man didn’t reply, so Peter howled and banged his hand on the bedside table, even though it hurt. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TELL HER, TONY?”

“I TOLD HER YOU WERE FUCKING DYING, THAT’S WHAT!” Tony screamed right back, chucking the phone that Peter hadn’t even noticed was in his hands across the room so hard that it splintered into a hundred separate pieces once it met with the wall. “I told her that her only family had been poisoned and I didn’t know what to fucking do, I had  _tried_ and I had thought it was going to work but fuck it, apparently life just ain’t that goddamn kind!”

 _“How could you,_ Tony- she’s supposed to be- I’m not- she doesn’t deserve that! She doesn’t…” Peter broke off, hands coming up to his face as the hot tears suddenly pooled behind is eyes, unable to be held back or pushed away any more, because fuck it all to hell _he didn’t want to die_ , he didn’t want May to know this, she was going to be devastated-

“Peter- she deserved to know. She’ll be back in a few hours- I’ve got the jet to come pick her up,” Tony stopped, turning away and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not giving up. We can still work this out. I know I can. It’s just… in case. She deserves to see you, Peter.”

 Peter curled in on himself, hands covering his face. He didn’t know what to do- what to think, how to act.

He was dying. That was all that was going through his head. He was dying and the antidote hadn’t worked and he was dying he was dying he was dying-

 

“Peter, look at me,” Tony said firmly, and his voice had gotten nearer, there were hands around his wrists, and when he looked up Tony was kneeling by the bed, looking at his face with the steely determination back in his mouth, his eyes, his posture. “You are not going to die. I swear on my life I will not let you die.”

The way he said it made Peter desperate to believe him- but he had four hours until blood toxicity became critical and it had taken Tony two and a half just to synthesise the first one, he was out of luck this time-

 _“Peter,”_  Tony said again, grip tightening, voice barely even above a whisper as he ground his teeth together, “you are  _not_  going to die.”

 

Again- he got the feeling Tony was trying to convince himself more than Peter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They sat there in silence- Peter on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness whilst Tony sat slumped by his side and continued to grip his wrist. Peter knew that he was working, though; knew he was thinking of everything and anything he could fathom. His eyes were barely even blinking, and he hadn’t moved an inch in ten minutes.

Peter felt the seconds tick by, each one as loud as the other in his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s your blood,” Tony said, out of nowhere, a few minutes later, “holy shit- it’s the enhancements in your blood. They’re not binding with the antidote.”

 

Peter opened his eyes curiously, watching as Tony suddenly stood up, eyes wide. “Peter- Jesus, I’m an idiot. The antidote- I’ve had this exact problem before with Cap, holy fuck- your body isn’t accepting the stuff I’m putting in it because your whole chemical makeup is different. It’s fighting it off.”

He moved faster than Peter had ever seen him go, flying forward, sprinting into the middle of the room. “JARVIS, I want Cap on the line, right now. Or Sam, or Natasha or whoever the fuck saw him last.”

“Wait, what?” Peter asked groggily. His head felt too thick- why was Tony calling Captain America? What was going on?

“Peter- I have an idea,” Tony said hurriedly, running manic hands through his hair and spinning a full 360 before landing back in front of Peter, “it’s… scientifically iffy at best, and it could go very badly, but then again… it could work.”

“Calling Captain Steve Rogers,” JARVIS said crisply, and Tony looked up, waited for the call to go through, crossing his fingers behind his back and biting his lip.

Peter jerked in surprise when, not even two seconds later, the call went through and he heard a worried “Tony? What’s the problem?” down the speaker system.

Tony didn’t hesitate. “I need your blood,” he said instantly, “and yes, it is as weird as it sounds. But I know you pinched it all after running away to Wakanda, and there is a hell of a lot riding on the fact that you kept some back in your homeland over here, so please, please I am begging you not to disappoint me right now.”

There was a long and rather telling silence. With each passing moment, Tony’s face fell a little further. “I… Tony- how important is it that you get it?”

Tony glanced over to Peter, just for a second. “More important than anything else I’m ever gonna ask you to do for me, buddy.”          

Another long silence. Tony huffed in irritation. “Gonna need an answer here, Steve!” He said sharply.

“I… I destroyed all the samples in the labs,” Steve said, and Peter watched Tony sag, defeated, just for a moment, until Steve spoke again, “but I’m in Philadelphia. You want it fresh?”

Tony paused, just for a moment, before blurting “what the fuck are you in Philly for?” Whilst his arms moved and made gestures that only JARVIS understood. He only left it a quarter of a second before adding “you know what, never mind, I don’t care what the Idiot-vengers are getting up to behind my back, I just need a fucking blood sample and then I’ll get out of your hair. Suit’s coming to collect you, it’ll be there in about fifteen. Please, just come. Not a trap, I swear.”

“Didn’t think it was,” Steve said softly, not rising to Tony’s sharp words, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Soon as my suit can, you mean,” Tony muttered, before cutting the call with a swipe of his hand and then jogging off over to the corner of the room. “Right, Parker- time to initiate plan B.”

“What is plan B?” Peter croaked, trying to focus on Tony but only feeling dizziness.

“We’re going to inject you with a mutated super-soldier serum.”

 

Peter, of course, had questions. And a few objections. But honestly- he was far too sick to voice them, and right now it seemed like all the other options were out.

 

So instead he just muttered “fair enough,” and shrugged.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter was happily watching Tony as he worked like a man possessed a few feet away from him, until the first pricks of…something, back to crawl down his back.

He knew, of course, that they weren’t good ‘somethings’. Because they hurt like fuckers.

 

Little zings of pain, at first. Ignorable. Bearable. Felt like bursts of electricity arcing off his spine. He winced at them, but by that point, there wasn’t really anything else he could have done aside from that. The bouts of consciousness were becoming few and far between, and he was so weak. Everything hurt.

Then another one came along- not so much a zing as a terrifying, all-consuming spasm that felt as if it was melting through his muscle and bone.

“Sir!” he heard JARVIS call to the room, but Peter couldn’t see anything- his eyes were clenched shut and maybe he was screaming or maybe he was just silent, it was hard to tell. “Sir, Mr Parker is having a severe seizure.”

Something clattered to the ground, and his back felt as if it was on fire; only his ankles and head were touching the bed now and it _hurt,_ it hurt so bad, his muscles were too weak to hold him up like this, he was going to-

 

“Stay with me, Peter, come on,  _stay with me.”_

 

That was Tony. He could feel arms wrestling with him, rolling him to the side where something trickled from his mouth, be it saliva or vomit or blood. The hands were cool, contrasting to the sudden and almost unbearable burn that ran through every part of him. 

 

“Peter,  _please,_  stay awake, come on, Steve’s almost here, we’re so close, you can do this! Please- please just-” 

 

His voice broke at the end, and then there was a wet cough that sounded more like a sob as Tony’s hands tightened around his shoulders, a beg, something desperate in the way the fingers shook against his burning skin. “Come on, Peter, you’re all I have left- please don’t… just hold on, please, you’re Spiderman, you’re stronger than all of us, you can do this!”

He hadn’t taken a breath in quite a while. Couldn’t- his chest was too tight, and his lungs felt as if they were burning but he physically couldn’t. He didn’t have anything left.

 

“Please, Peter. For me. For Aunt May and MJ and Ned. Please.”

 

 

The words conjured up images. Memories.

Ned’s barrage of spiderman-related questions and boundless enthusiasm. Aunt May’s smile and delicate hugs and bad sense of humour. MJ kissing him on the roof of the Avengers tower, courtesy of Ironman the chauffeur.  Tony ruffling his hair and feeding him ice cream whilst he complained about his day.

Things to live for. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow, he held on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At some point, the seizures stopped, and Peter went boneless on the bed. He felt too exhausted to open his eyes, but he knew Tony was still there. Could feel the shaking hands that were still clutching his shoulders like a lifeline.

 

Time passed like a blur. A dream.

 

 

* * *

 

 

”Tony?”

 

His voice cracked and broke away entirely at the end, but Tony still heard, still turned around. “Yeah?”

“I’m… I’m scared.”

He was young. He was fifteen. He wanted to go to the movies with MJ next monday- wanted to do his science project with Ned. He didn’t want to die, even if he was Spiderman,  _he didn’t want to-_

Yeah. He was scared.

 

Tony froze. Peter realised, with hindsight, that he probably should have just kept that thought to himself. He was Spiderman, after all, and like he’d just said- he didn’t have time for fear. He knew this was what he’d signed up for when he’d started- knew the risks. He should have been prepared to die.

Turns out it’s easier in theory than it is in practise.

 

“Yeah, Peter, I know,” was all Tony answered with, and when he looked down, Peter could see that the same thoughts were running through his mind, too. “So am I.”

Tony’s smile didn’t waver as he showed it to Peter, even if it did look to stretched thin, too fake. It was good enough. At least he was still trying.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Someone else entered the room, their voice low, worried. “Tony, Jesus, have you been cr-”

“Sit down.”

“Tony, you need to tell me-”

_“SIT DOWN.”_

 

The voice must have done, in the end, because Tony thanked it, and then started talking in low tones that Peter couldn’t hear. Mentioned him, a few times. Heard a few horrified gasps from the lower voice, and a ‘how much time do you have?’, answered with a soft ‘I don’t… few hours, maybe. His aunt’ll be arriving in a couple hours.’

His eyes still wouldn’t open. 

“There,” Tony said, with an air of finality, “I’ve mixed the solution with your blood, and hopefully the makeup will be similar enough for his body to accept it better than just the normal antitoxin. Now… we just wait for it to synthesise ”

“Is there anything I can do?” The voice- _Captain America,_  Peter remembered helpfully from the handful of times they’d either fought or worked together on something- asked. He sounded horribly sad.

Tony said something, so quiet Peter couldn’t hear it, and then there was a soft exhale as Captain America said “this isn’t your fault, Tony,” and then moved across the room, his big footfalls being audible even to Peter’s beaten senses.

 

He didn’t hear anything else after that- lost in unconsciousness once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he regained awareness, Tony was sat at his side again. 

Fingers curled around Peter’s own, his head was facing the floor, and Peter couldn’t see his face. Behind him, Captain America was leaning against the wall watching Tony’s turned back with a haunted look in his eyes. Every now and then his hand reached out, hovered over Tony’s shoulder like he wanted to touch, to comfort, but didn’t quite know if it was his place. Tony seemed not to register the movement anyway.

 

Consciousness was brief, and the last thing Peter felt was a hot drop of liquid that fell from Tony’s cheek into the upturned palm of his hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“-haven’t got—of time–”

 

                                                                                                           “where–”

 

 

 

 

                                             “quickly— I need— he’s dying”

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                          “Fuck—I can’t—-gonna—loose him-”

 

 

 

 

“Come on–can  _do this_ —–I got you, Peter, I got–”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

There was a rhythmic beeping noise, and it was pissing Peter off.

 

 _On_  and  _on_  and  _on_  it went. He’d been sort of vaguely aware of it for a few minutes by that point, but suddenly it came into clarity- disgusting, annoying clarity.

 

“Can someone turn that off, please,” he muttered, rubbing a hand at his eyes.

 

There were voices, then. Two, maybe three- although one of them sounded like JARVIS, so Tony wasn’t sure if it counted. Another was definitely Aunt May though, which was weird, because he was absolutely certain that she was away on a-  
Oh.

 

He remembered.

 

Wrenching his eyes open, he did his best to try and jerk forward, before realising that his body was having absolutely none of that. Instead, he just sort of wriggled a little on the bed and yelled. Loudly.

“Oh, Jesus, thank whatever fucking cunt is out there watching over us in this universe,” Aunt May breathed, somewhere to his left, and then he was being hugged- a sniffling nose and wet cheeks burying themselves into his neck tightly. “Don’t you EVER do that to me again. Peter, seriously, I was out of my mind-”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, doing his best to grip on to her tightly. He’d been ill for less than 24 hours, but he felt as if he’d just been brought out of a 10 year coma.

“I should fucking hope you are!” May shrieked, holding on to him a little tighter “You scared the bejesus outta me, who the fuck do you think I am,  _Gandhi_ , I don’t have the patience or control for this bullshit, I was ready to go take a bat to whichever villain fuck did this, I had to get held down by _Captain Fricking_  America, who is, by the way, a fucking war criminal- is this your fucking life? Because I feel like I need a bottle of Jack and ten Xanax’s just to deal with all this tom-fuckery and I’ve only been involved in it for two and a half hours! What the fuck, Peter!”

Right. He saw when he got his tendency to ramble from. 

“So it worked, then,” Peter mumbled to himself as he looked around for Tony, who, it seemed, had come through in the end and somehow managed to concoct a cure in the space of less than 4 hours.

All he saw, however, was Captain America sat in the chair where Tony had been the last time Peter had been awake.

“Sorry, kid,” the man said, “he’s out… dealing with the guy who did this to you. I couldn’t stop him- he went as soon as we realised you were gonna pull through. Just told me to wait with you and inform him when you woke, which is what I’m gonna do right now.” He gestured to his phone, dialling Tony’s number without even looking at the keypad.

Peter raised a tired eyebrow. “You sorted through all your manpain yet, or are you still ignoring my advice and pulling eachother’s pigtails?” He asked through a smile.

He wanted to make a note somewhere that he had successfully managed to make Captain America blush, but felt that was probably more appropriate saved for later. “None of your business, kid.”

Peter just hummed. “I know you text all the time- he has a special notification for you. It’s a fart noise, because he’s a five year old, but still. “

Captain America said nothing, just shook his head and smiled. “Lucky you’re ill, kid, or I’d show you how we treated cheeky teens back in my day.”

“All talk,” Peter sniped tiredly, “dropped an aircraft carrier on me and you still only managed to give me a black eye.”

“Wait-” Aunt May said, releasing him just for a second, in order to glare instead at Rogers, “when you said, months ago, that some kid called Steve from Brooklyn punched you…”

And if Peter had been impressed that he’d made the guy blush, it was nothing on what Aunt May should have felt, because right then she was putting something that resembled mild terror on his face as he nudged his chair back a little. “To be fair, he was interfering in a rather serious- okay never mind, I’m so sorry m’am, that was- yeah, that was all on me, I was out of line, please don’t put that bat anywhere near me-”

“Aunt May,” Peter said reassuringly, taking her hand, “don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge. Superhero stuff, right? Put down the bat.”

She glared daggers across the bed to Captain America for a few more moments, but then sat mutinously back in her chair. “I should tell the UN where you are,” she muttered, folding her arms, “or just shoot you.”

“Please don’t do either of those things.”

“Then don’t ever lay a finger on Peter again.”

Rogers shot Peter a sideways glance, and then grinned a little ruefully. “Between you and Tony looking out for him, I really wouldn’t want to, m’am,” he said.

 

At that moment, there was a loud clanging sound from down the corridor, and Peter matched it with the familiar sounds of Ironman making his landing. He grinned despite himself, and sat up a little straighter as he watched Tony hurtle into the room a few seconds later. Everything about him was a mess- hair, face, clothes- but when he locked eyes with Peter, the smile on his face drowned all of that out. 

They’d both made it through the other side. As always.

 

“I’ll give you two a minute, but that’s all. I’m coming in and getting straight back to the hugging after sixty seconds, alright?” May said quietly, glancing between them before beginning to stand, clicking her fingers over to Rogers. “You,” she said sharply, “you’re coming too.”

Meekly, Rogers stood up and followed, and Peter loved Aunt May so much for being able bring Captain America to heel with a snap of her fingers. He stopped for a moment to pat Tony on the shoulder, and they shared a look that probably held an entire conversation Peter wasn’t privy to before May grabbed his arm and yanked, pulling them both out of the door.

Peter swallowed, looking to Tony. “So- that wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend,” he said weakly.

Tony stood still for all of a millisecond before shaking his head and breathing out heavily. “You fucking idiot,” he muttered, and then almost bowled Peter over with the force of his hug.

Peter clung on to the fabric of Tony’s suit jacket and buried his head into the man’s shoulder. Tony felt like he was shaking again, and he kept muttering curses into Peter’s hair as they held onto one another in the lab Peter now felt he had spent far too much time in.

“I thought I was too late,” Tony whispered, voice wavering a little, “I thought… Jesus, do you know how much I hate you, Peter Parker- you’re going to give me a heart attack, you’re going to kill me, end my life, shoot me dead with a bullet made entirely of fucking stress and worry-”

“Thank you,” Peter interrupted him with, voice muffled by Tony’s shoulder, “for saving me.  And looking after me. I just… thank you.”

Tony shook his head, fingers tapping into Peter’s back for a few seconds until he let go and stared downward. “Thank you for not dying,” he said, and he wasn’t even joking.

Peter nodded, biting his lip, looking down at himself. “I feel like shit,” he muttered.

Tony gave him a look. “Yeah, that’ll be the poison, Peter.”

“Har har fucking har,” Peter rubbed his eyes, laying back on the bed, “You and May should start an ‘I think I’m funny but I’m actually not’ club. Members only.”

“I’ll have you know me and May are too busy running the ‘someone fucking watch Peter Parker before he accidentally sets something on fire again’ club to engage in a different one. Maybe ask Steve about it- he can be chairperson of the former one.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ugh, when are you gonna just put down your metaphorical swords and make up? Or have you already done that and now you’re just hiding it from the world?”

Tony smacked the back of his head. “When are _you_ going to let that go? Stop bugging me about it and focus on your own pathetic crush on MJ, Jesus, I’m a grown man-”

“So you admit you have a crush on him?” Peter jumped in instantly, and grinned when Tony’s eyebrows rose in surprise at his own mistake, “see, I told you I was right-”

“You were dying three hours ago, squirt, so maybe you wanna shut up before I put you back in that state-”

“I knew it, you’re always texting him, even if it makes you angry most of the time, don’t even deny it-”

“-you think I’m joking around, but I’m not, I’ll shoot you, right here right now if you don’t shut your fat face-”

“you’re in looove with St-”

Tony clamped a hand over his mouth quickly, just as the man himself was pushed back into the room by May, who, true to her word, was back by the time sixty seconds had passed. Peter licked his hand in an attempt to get him to move it, but aside from gagging and saying “what are you,  _five?”_  Tony didn’t relent.

Eventually, Peter just raised his hands in surrender, and Tony slowly let up, wincing and wiping his palm over Peter’s cheek. “That was gross and I am ashamed of you,” he stated righteously.

“That’s how I feel whenever you and Cap are in a room together.”

“Shut up.”

 _“You_  shut up.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up, you’re a minor.”

“And that makes it illegal?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I saved your life.”

 Peter stopped, face turning a little more serious as he looked over to Tony, who was staring right back, face relaxed but posture still a little tense, a little worried.

He reached out, pulling Tony into another hug, which the man went into with little more than a sulky huff. “Yeah. You did. I knew you were gonna.”

Tony didn’t say anything- just squeezed his shoulders a little tighter before breaking away and looking down awkwardly, turning to Aunt May. “Hi!” he said cheerily, standing back up, “well, Cap looks appropriately traumatised, so I’ll guess you two had a nice  conversation about Germany?”

May nodded with a smile, and as Peter watched them, he allowed himself to relax back into the cushions again- happy to just close his eyes whilst the sounds of conversation floated through his ears.

 

Captain America had a point. If he had Aunt May and Tony Stark in his corner- he really had nothing to worry about.

**Author's Note:**

> all the background/ implied stevetony stuff is not going to be gone into in-depth, it's just there because I am a fucking sucker for them and I want them to sort out their shit. Let's just pretend that is what they're doing when they Text one another. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I was kind of apprehensive about posting this one- didn't really like it, but here it is anyway! Comments+Kudos always greatly appreciated, and of course, tumblr is @itsallavengers if u fancy more peter & tony garbage


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